


In The Beginning

by spamtotz



Series: It's a Good Life [2]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Josh does a dumb thing, Which is so out of character for him...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spamtotz/pseuds/spamtotz
Summary: Hawaii has firmly pushed them to the “something” territory, which is miles better than the nothing they had been six months ago. Very something, he would even allow, but that’s the problem. What exactly they are, whatever name they’re supposed to put to this, it’s still unclear.Or, Josh is having some trouble adjusting.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Series: It's a Good Life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053221
Comments: 35
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a scant two weeks later when Josh begins to flounder.

“You need someone who’s going to ignore you.” 

“Donna, you do that already.”

“No. I mean, you need an assistant who’s going to be able to keep working without getting upset if you stage a nutty.” 

“Right.”

“I’m serious. You can be… kind of intense.”

Josh snorts. She’s preaching to the choir on that one. He’s got a lifetime of experience and a long-standing, if not inconsistent, relationship with his therapist to back it up.

Donna’s so easily able to diagnose him. She always has, and he... knows her favorite sandwich. He knows that her sister’s name is Nell, and he knows she only pretends to not understand baseball—facts lacking depth of information—and there’s only so much time available to catch up with her. The inauguration is barreling down on them, and Baker’s confirmation…

Hawaii has firmly pushed them to the “something” territory, which is miles better than the nothing they had been six months ago. _Very_ something, he would even allow, but that’s the problem. What exactly they are, whatever name they’re supposed to put to this, it’s still unclear, even after all the questions from the peanut gallery that first day back at the office. Even the president-elect had shot him a sly look before launching into an explanation on the Vinick thing. _That_ is a dynamic he has zero interest in cultivating. 

Josh has not once mentioned the g-word or asked if they’re dating. It seems too gauche, too small for what she is, anyway, and it’s a weird question to ask a grown woman. _Uh… will you be my girlfriend?_ He’d rather swallow his own tongue.

What he _has_ done is eat her yogurt even though it makes his stomach gurgle, trip over the boxes waiting to be unpacked in the living room, mock the vapid romance novels that now sit next to his law school books— Fabio, really? —shatter a glass vase, and knock over her aloe vera plant. 

It’s also taken him by surprise some nights, finding her in his bed. Not that he’d ever tell Donna of his brief memory lapses. She’d be upset. Josh _knows_ that she’s still waiting for something from him. She’s not pushing, not harping on it, but there’s an undercurrent of something that feels disconnected, a part of her that’s inaccessible. That doesn’t make sense, though. They’re living together, aren’t they? Cohabitating in a way that he never has with any other… partner, and Donna knows that, but those damn boxes are just sitting there, mocking him.

“Who should I get, then?” he asks, taking a bite of his lo mein. He has to transfer the noodles to his cheek to keep talking. “Margaret said she doesn’t feel right staying on permanently without Leo, and you know she loves to ignore me.”

“Yes.” Donna nods thoughtfully, pointing her chopsticks at him. “If anything,” she says, “you yelling at Otto proves that you need someone who’s willing to yell back… And you need to relax. People don’t like working for you if you act like the sky is falling all the time.”

“I relax,” Josh says, popping up from his chair like a curious turtle. “I relaxed last night.” He adds a suggestive twist on it and is outrageously delighted to see a flush climb up Donna’s neck. “Besides, you did okay managing me.”

The thought crosses his mind that it may have been Donna, a lot of the time, that made him feel like things might be okay, even if it was her alerting the office that the sky was falling.

It’s weird not having her at his elbow all the time.

“Well, that was different, wasn’t it? I doubt your new assistant will be as tolerant of your shenanigans as I was.” She stares down at her takeout container, hair dropping like a curtain around her face. “Can I have an egg roll?”

Josh’s stomach drops. He’s not sure what she’s embarrassed about, but there it is, clear as day on her face. Wordlessly, he passes over the tray. 

Still avoiding his gaze, Donna takes a minute to pretend to be picky, fluttering her fingers over the egg rolls. She crunches into her choice, apparently having no qualms about talking with a full mouth. “Hey, um… I have a preliminary list for department heads on my staff. Would you look it over? I want to make sure they all sound okay before I bother the FBI guys for full background checks.”

Cold fingers creep up the back of his neck because there’s that word again... preliminary. He doesn’t really know what that means in the context of them. A preliminary yes is what she’d given him. They’re good, right? They’re living together, and she’s happy… Right? 

Any time Donna goes and does something sweet, like when she wakes up first and walks to the café around the corner to get him a fancy coffee, it feels like his chest is caving in, and he’s all the more aware of how woefully behind he is. His chaotic crash of sound to her faster traveling light. 

“You have a list, already?”

“Mmhmm.” She surreptitiously nudges a stack of paper in to place on his desk, and Josh admires the bit of wrist that peeks out from her sleeve. He can circle two fingers around that wrist. “Annabeth had a few names for me when I got back, and I started thinking about it right after Helen asked. I guess my head accepted the job before I did.”

“You mean you were thinking about work on vacation?” He says it mildly enough that Donna has to peek through her hair at him, but he’s just teasing. It’s surprising, although he doesn’t know why. _Of course_ Donna is more organized than him in this. He’s still wrapped up in cabinet positions and AG for God’s sake. Assistant-less, unless you count Otto, which Josh doesn’t. “Yeah, I can take a look. No problem.” 

“Great. I’ll have my assistant fax it over.” 

God. _Donna_ has her own assistant.

A quiet knock sounds from the door. 

Lou sticks her head in. “Hey, Josh. You got a minute?” 

He tenses, a mushroom dropping from his chopsticks. Lou has invaded their bubble, even though it’s just his office, and they’re talking about work. It would have been nothing out of the ordinary if it was Lou interrupting them a month ago. Now, he feels caught out, off-kilter, like he’s swung a golf club and missed.

“Uh…” he says, looking to Donna.

“Hey, Lou. It’s fine. I have to go, anyway. More interviews.” She neatly sweeps the napkins and empty containers off Josh’s desk. A quick press of her lips to his, a tickle of her hair on his neck, and she’s breezing out, munching on the last egg roll. “See you at home. Don’t wait up. Mrs. Santos asked me to stay for dinner.”

Josh doesn’t move, barely reacts to the kiss, and stares after her, watching her greet the staff outside his office and round the corner out of sight. He pulls back his hand, the one that’s still floating in the air, a phantom hold around her waist. 

Donna’s never made him feel like this before… slow, obtuse. Nobody has. Not that she’s doing it on purpose, but he’s underwater, and she’s brilliant. She’s already lined up her staff and has a policy outline and is acting like they’ve been together forever, kissing him in front of people. Work-Donna is clipping along at a pace that Josh finds deeply admirable, as always. Partner-Donna is thoughtful and easygoing. It’s… nothing like he expected.

Up until today, they’ve mostly been operating in their own orbits. Her at Blair House, him at the office, occasionally intersecting at home but definitely not as much as Josh would like. This lunch is the first time she’s made it back to the OEOB, and they’d still had to squeeze it in in the provisional 40-minute space on their respective calendars. Even as busy as she’s told him she is, Josh has envied Donna being away from the main bulk of their people. Blair House is quiet, and most importantly, far from the madding crowd. 

It’s not that he wants to keep her from anybody. It’s mostly that he wants to keep _them_ from _everybody_. Hawaii, and even the day they got home, afforded them privacy, but now everyone gets a crack at them. It wasn’t embarrassment—when he’d told Sam or when CJ had called, squawking at him like he had forgotten to mention he’d won the lottery—just that he’s still trying to wrap his hands around what they are and uncomfortable with people asking about the depths of his feelings for Donna, which is new. 

Normally, a personal relationship is something to flaunt, to parade around like a circus act, and restraint is not typically one of Josh’s strengths. Of this, he is well aware. Beyond his desire to have Donna as near to him with as much frequency as possible, there’s also this… ghost of a plan to move a little slower this time. Apparently, he’s just interested in making his own life as difficult as possible because he hasn't mentioned it to Donna, yet.

Lou coughs. She’s one of the few to keep her nose out of his business, so that makes her one of Josh’s favorite people right now or… at least tolerable.

“What?” 

She flops into the seat Donna just vacated. “Did I say anything?”

“No. What do you want?” Josh chucks his now-empty lo mein container at the garbage bin, a muted sense of victory pulling his mouth into a smile when it lands without splattering.

Lou watches him with a neutral expression. “President-elect wants Baker’s primary office in the White House. Extra offices to accommodate his staff, too.”

“Baker’s not VP, yet!” A crackle of irritation zips through the back of his head. With the way the Senate operates, why jinx it? “He’s not even vice president-elect.”

“But he’s going to be.”

Josh mulls it over and narrows his eyes, tilting his legs up onto the desk. “This coming from Baker?”

He wouldn’t put it past the guy or his staff, after the stunt Russell pulled at the convention. Is it some sort of power play to get back at the Democratic Party for engaging in the leak about his wife? Proving they were all fools for electing the weak-willed Santos? Not if Josh has anything to say about it.

Lou shrugs. “Not sure.”

“Talk to Goodwin about it. Tell him to be an… obstacle.”

“Goodwin’s already there. He thinks it’s a bad idea, too. President-elect seems pretty adamant about it.”

Josh rubs a hand over his eyes. He clearly has a political type. The type with an irritating independent streak. Bartlet and Santos. These are the men he has chosen to serve.

“Fine. But put out some feelers to find out where this is coming from. Under the radar. If this is going to happen, somebody is going to lose their office, and I don’t want it to be me.” No matter who he has to arm wrestle.

“Got it.” Lou levers herself out of her chair. Josh is nearly free of her, when she says, “Also, I knew it. The second I saw you with Donna, I knew there was something going on there. Something _indecent_.” She grins like the Cheshire Cat. 

Josh lets his head fall into his hands, feeling himself shrink inwards. She’s just been lying in wait, clearly, circling her wagon, lulling him into a false sense of security. If there’s any consolation in it, at least she’s blunt. The over-refined Ronna quizzing had been excruciating.

“Congratulations, Nostradamus.” 

Lou crosses her arms, smug. “Yeah.” That’s all she says, seeming to bask in the glow of her rightness in his doorway.

Josh braces himself for the battery of questions. _How did it happen? Have long have you been seeing each other? Is it serious?_ When Lou doesn’t speak again, he takes a moment to reevaluate, squinting at her. Who is he kidding? It’s Lou. She likes to wind people up and probably doesn’t give a shit. Ok. Good. That’s good. He’ll just change the subject, and she’ll go along with it.

“Hey, while you’re here...” He pinches the bridge of his nose. The topic has been on his list for a couple days, and it’s awful to use as a conversation pivot, but now seems like the perfect time to make it awkward for both of them. "I want to put Otto on the speechwriting team. Is that going to be a problem?”

Lou answers with much more candor than Josh is expecting. “We’re not sleeping together, anymore. It was strictly stress relief.” She says it loud enough that anyone within a reasonable distance would be able to hear.

“You’re sure?” He has a little trouble believing Otto would be as cool about the… split, or whatever. “You don’t think you’ll need… stress relief, again?”

He’s totally aware that his voice gets high-pitched when these things come up and honestly would rather lick a Metro seat than drag this out any longer, but the question remains. Staff… entanglements would be hard to shield from an antagonistic Senate.

“Yeah, Josh. There are no hard feelings there.”

“Okay… Great, then. You want me to tell him?” He’s beyond relieved. Too many of his brain cells have been dedicated to the personal lives of his staff, plus his thing with Donna. It’s been two weeks, and already he’s wondering how Leo ever managed to maintain sanity.

“Nah, I’ll do it. Kid’s got to learn his place in the world.” To Josh, it looks like she settles into position against the door, rather than making what would be a much-appreciated exit. Lou peers at him over her glasses. He hates that. That deliberate evaluating stare. Sam is good at that one, too. “ _Are you_ going to be a problem?”

“I’m not a problem. I’m never a problem. What do you mean?”

“You. With Donna. Look at you.” Lou dips her chin at him.

Josh retreats from the aggressive position he’s taken, leaning over the top of his desk, and stops jiggling his leg. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Annoying… 

“The second I mentioned her, you got all twitchy.” She waggles a hand at him. “We’re not even in the White House, yet. People are going to take your picture, her picture, you know? When we make the next round of senior staff announcements. Your picture _together_ when people find out, and it's going to be worth its weight in gold. You’d make a great human-interest piece, Josh. Putting a likable spin on the ugly face of government.”

“Get out.” The thought of some weedy camera guy following Donna around, following her _home_ , makes him feel nauseous.

Lou holds her hands out and turns away slowly like she’s trying not to provoke him. “Just something to think about.” 

Josh frowns. It is no one’s business but theirs, definitely not his staff or, most especially, the general public. Settling back in his chair, his mood shifted to something dark and ruminating, he feels a crunch beneath his elbow. Looking down, he spots an extra fortune cookie. Donna left it for him. Pressure blooms behind his ribs when he unwraps it and reads the little slip of paper. _Fear and desire – two sides of the same coin._

Well, that’s nowhere near a fortune. It’s a statement of fact.

He tosses the remnants of the cookie in the garbage and glances at his watch: a couple minutes until the next meeting. No problem. He can run if he has to. Picking up the phone, he dials Sam, thinking they’re going to talk about the vote count for Baker. That’s not what comes out of his mouth when Sam says hello. 

“Do you think it’s strange? Me and Donna at work?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “Why? What did you do?” Sam’s voice is replete with suspicion but not much surprise.

Josh punches the speakerphone button and stands up to close the door. “Nothing. Nothing. She was here for lunch, and Lou came in—” 

“Josh, am I ever going to want to set foot in your office, again?”

“God, Sam. Not that.” He starts pacing in front of the couch. As if they’d ever… as if she’d let him… at work!

“I was kidding, Josh. Yes. I think it’s strange.”

A stab of nervousness pierces Josh’s stomach. What if it’s… “Bad?”

“No, a thank-God-we-can-finally-acknowledge-it-after-all-this-time strange. Laura says hi, by the way.”

Laura. “Your…?”

“Fiancée, Josh! My fiancée. You met her last week.” 

“Right.” That’s right. Sam is in California packing up his stuff. With the fiancée. Laura. “The hot brunette.”

“ _Josh_.” 

He looks to the ceiling, realizing he’s going to have to play ball if he wants to continue this conversation in any meaningful way. “Hey, Laura.” 

Sam must move away from the phone. His voice is muffled, presumably talking to the future Mrs. Seaborn. “She says you’re stupid,” he relays, sounding apologetic.

“Great girl you’ve got there, Sam. She’s got a stunning vocabulary. Where’d she go to school? University of the Inarticulate?”

Sam laughs, but it tapers into an awkward cough.

Josh bites his lip, dropping to the couch and threading his fingers together. “What did you mean, ‘after all this time?’” Donna had told him that she’d waited for a hell of a long time—almost since the beginning—hoping he’d pull his head out of his ass on his own, which clearly hadn’t happened, but does this mean everyone else knew, too? 

He’s greeted by more silence.

“Sam?”

“Look, I mean, I think we all knew Donna had feelings for you, and she was your assistant for so long. But _you_. You vacillate. No one knew if—and obviously nothing could happen while you were her boss—” Unusually, Sam is going on a walk with this one.

“Sam!” Josh has to interrupt, his heart beating an uncomfortable cadence in his chest. It feels an awful lot like guilt. 

“Right. It’s not strange, I guess. I didn’t know if you… It’s remarkable to see you actually doing something about it. That’s what I meant.”

“You didn’t know if I…?”

These are not the highest of compliments he’s being paid, here. Nevertheless, his heart clenches, when he thinks of all his interactions with Donna over the years. The way he’d treated her… Some of the things he’d said… Everything he ever accused her dimwit-of-the-month of being—ignorant, duplicitous, selfish—he _is_ , or at least has been, and he’d done it in front of all of their colleagues and friends. It’s a miracle Donna even wants to talk to him.

Sam coughs. “If you... felt the same way,” he says, his voice well-meaning but hesitant in Josh’s ear. “You guys always had a thing, but I wasn’t sure if you weren’t just teasing her, a lot of the time. Donna’s great. You’re good together. She keeps you... upright. Andy used to come see Toby. Mallory stopped in, sometimes. Your girlfriend can visit you at work.”

Josh is glad he’s alone so no one can see the hot blush on his face. He slumps. It’s embarrassing, asking this of Sam. 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Josh.”

He’s on his feet in an instant, knuckles white. “I’m not ashamed of her!” Before he can lodge a complaint or get through a single piece of evidence to prove he’s not, Josh catches sight of his watch. Shit! Now he’s late. “Listen, Sam. I have to—”

“Yeah.”

Josh rushes out, sprinting to the president-elect’s office, but the conversation swirls in his mind all day. He’s able to push it to the backburner during meetings, but otherwise, it’s always there, simmering like the seven-year itch. He’s not ashamed of Donna. He’s _not_.

She’s beautiful. God, she’s beautiful. She’s smart and funny, whether she means to be or not—like the time she accidentally walked in to work wearing the shirt she used as a dust rag? Josh had nearly made himself sick laughing once he found out what the lemony cloud was wafting through the bullpen—and a million other things that he’d been way too stupid to see before. 

He nearly walks headfirst into Teddy at one point because he’s so distracted. So what if Donna didn’t graduate from college? So what if she started as an assistant? So what? 

Fear is something Josh has learned to run at, which his therapist has called _troubling_ , but whatever. Going after Mary Marsh, flying to Donna in Germany, parachuting into Matt Santos’s life to suggest a presidential run—okay, that one was stupid, but still, look how it turned out. He’s already lived a Donna-less existence, and it’s not something he’d like to repeat. 

But the rumors that might fly once the press puts it all together… She used to work for him and doesn’t have a stunning academic background that explains her career jump—or vault more like. That’s a new type of fear altogether, gets his heart racing just thinking about it. Donna’s life could be hell. He thinks of Leo and how rough working at the White House had made his life. The divorce, the addiction fiasco, the heart attacks… Josh doesn’t even want to imagine the ways their brand-new… thing can go sideways. 

* * *

Donna’s asleep on the couch when he drags himself through the door, a spot of drool on the pillow beneath her cheek and a Styrofoam to-go box on the coffee table. Mrs. Santos obviously sent her home earlier than expected. 

He opens the box, grabbing a loose french fry, and manages to choke it down, but it’s soggy and saturated with too much oil. She has the worst taste in potato-related sides. 

The flickering blue light from the TV casts funny shadows on the planes of her face. They remind Josh of a time when the shadows were real bruises and cuts, when he couldn’t pull the blanket from her face and make them disappear. He has to turn away for a second to rid himself of the memory.

Donna lets out a gravelly snore, and Josh bites down on his tongue to stop the laugh tickling the back of his throat. It’s the real her, here and whole and just about as adorable a sight as Josh has ever seen. Her cheeks are a little pink, and she’s got a hand sweetly tucked under her face like she’s a kid, again. Not for the first time in the last couple weeks, Josh feels his heart thump just from looking at her.

Having done it a few times himself, he knows that sleeping on the couch is murder on the back, so he turns off the TV and sweeps a gentle hand through her hair.

“Donna,” he says, low, trying not to scare her awake. He’d tried it once and received an accidental knee to the groin for his troubles. “Donna, wake up.” 

She twitches awake after he tweaks her nose, limbs stretching out along the length of the couch. Thankfully, her knees stay far away from him.

“Hi,” she says, voice raspy. Her sleep-stiff fingers catch on his tie where it’s dangling in front of her face, and she pulls him in for a kiss.

Josh seals their mouths together and traces along her jaw, interested in the shiver that moves through her body. A low glow burns in his stomach, the enthusiasm that had abandoned him in his office roaring to life. Every lonely night he’s spent in a hotel room, every wrong turn they’ve taken, it’s all led to this. Knowing that she’ll be here, knowing that he’ll feel her warm body tonight when he falls asleep… it’s astounding. 

Donna’s fingers scratch against his collar and the back of his neck every time their lips meet, the warm, gentle pull of her drawing him in so he’s leaning over her. Before he knows it, he’s shifted and his legs are tangled in the blanket, too, a hand pushed between her back and the couch, trying to nudge up her shirt.

“Mmm,” she says when they separate, her eyes remaining closed for a moment. “That’s nice.” She squeezes him, then wraps her arms loosely around his shoulders.

It is nice. 

Josh rests his forehead against hers, feeling her breath ghost across his cheek. He likes that she has to compose herself when he kisses her. He does, too. It’s still new, still exciting. 

She brushes her fingers through his hair, and satisfaction ripples down his spine. Josh imagines that she’s combed it into a bushy tangle, but he doesn’t even mind. Everything is amplified when Donna is around. The lights are brighter. The coffee is stronger. The happiness is more expansive.

He sinks into her, and an absurd thought occurs to him, the one that had been eluding him all day. The significant segments of his life aren’t broken into semesters or terms or even platonic Donna and romantic Donna. It’s before Donna and after. 

How much sunnier had his life become once she’d rocked up in Nashua? Admittedly, being able to stroke his fingers under her shirt while lying in the cradle of her legs is way better than sitting in his office until two am reading labor statistic reports, but it’s all shades of the same feeling.

There’s no one else in the world Josh would rather see at almost every moment of every day, even when she’s being annoying—which is a lot of the time. It is this simple fact that’s like a tsunami washing over him.

It’s been a long time since he’s had someone to come home to, and even then, it’s not like he and Amy had given any significant thought to what might happen long term. They hadn’t survived her political maneuvers, anyway, but Josh was never sure what the end game was there. Those little domestic tendencies he had wanted so desperately with Amy… It just hadn’t worked before, but now, it's more than possible.

And if he could come home to this every day—or most days, anyway? Well, an office couch suddenly seems much less appealing. They could celebrate birthdays—hers—and holidays, go on more vacations, and maybe even… He has to swallow a couple of times and hide his face in Donna’s neck, his mouth going dry. He can’t say _that_.

Instead, he screws himself, royally.

“Maybe we should cool it a little bit,” he says, his words snaking into her hair. “When we’re, you know, at work.” What? Where did that come from? Take it back, you idiot! 

Donna stiffens beneath him, her hands halting their exploration of his shoulders. “Why do you say that? It’s not like we got caught making out in a utility closet. We had lunch.”

“I uh…” His throat closes around an answer when he tries to refute the breathtakingly stupid suggestion. 

“So, you don’t want to have lunch with me, anymore?” She sounds confused, hurt. “Did… Did I do something wrong?"

This is so not the night he’d envisioned. Josh abruptly pulls back, framing her face with his hands.

“No! I’m just… I know what trying to have a relationship in the spotlight feels like,” he says, his fingers flexing, “and, maybe, that’s one of the reasons mine haven’t worked. And I do want this to work. So much.” That _is_ true, and the more Josh talks, the more important it is that he be able to it out. He gives her a light shake to emphasize it. “With you being in the first lady’s office… I think the more privacy we can get, the better.”

He may as well be holding a block of wood for all the warmth Donna’s giving off. He can practically taste her disappointment—and it’s bitter—but now it’s too late to grab back the words. She deflates like a balloon.

“Are you embarrassed, Josh? That I don’t stack up against Amy and Mandy? You didn’t seem all that interested in privacy with them.” Her voice cracking is a sure indication that he’s hurt her feelings. 

The accusation cuts through him much deeper than Sam’s, a thin knife slicing into his ribcage. And, inconveniently, she is right. In his younger days, well... One particularly humiliating incident had involved TV cables, a news van, and his pants around his ankles. 

Desperate to soothe her, despite the less-than-flattering assessment, Josh touches her cheek and leans in, but she turns away. He hitches himself back, resting his weight on his elbows and hips rather than Donna. Why, why, why does his mouth go galloping ahead before his brain tells it what to say? She thinks…

“I’m not embarrassed of you, Donna.” He rubs a thumb on her neck, feeling her pulse flutter. She won’t look at him, so he tilts her face back to his. Her eyes are blank, on purpose he suspects. That could either mean mad or… horrifically sad. He’s never been good at picking up the signal for that one. Something else to work on if she’ll let him. “I’m trying to keep this between us for as long as I can _because_ I value it. We still have some time before inauguration. I don’t like that everyone is in our business. You should have heard Ronna that first day back.” He winces just thinking about it. “I don’t even know what language you swear in, yet. My mom always says…”

Josh half-smiles at her, but Donna is still as a statue, and he finds that he can’t finish telling her what his mom always says. 

“Basically, you want to do the opposite of what you’ve done before? Because your relationships with Amy and Mandy were too public?”

“Yeah. Is that… okay?”

Her face crumples. “Well, I don’t appreciate you making a decision without me–” _Again._ The word she left out is _again_ , and Josh wonders how many times he can screw up in the same way before her patience will run out. “But if that’s what makes you more comfortable, that’s what we’ll do.” 

“Donna, I didn’t make a—I’m asking.” It’s weird that she isn’t being demanding. Donna doesn’t ask where he’s been, why he’s late. She falls asleep alone on the couch with a Styrofoam box leaking grease on the coffee table but doesn’t demand. She hasn’t, not even about this. He’d been stupid to bring it up the way he had, and now that he’s gotten her to agree, well… It’s a hollow victory. 

She pushes on his chest so they’re both sitting up and tugs the blanket around her shoulders like a cape… or maybe a shield. “Did you get a chance to look at the list I sent you?”

“Ah.” The specters of girlfriends past pop into his brain, shouting that he’s not considerate enough, that he doesn’t care. “No. I’m… I’m really sorry. I had these meetings…”

Donna sighs. It’s small, but it could be a gunshot for all the meaning behind it. “It’s okay.” She puts a hand on his cheek and presses one last kiss to his mouth but avoids his eyes when she stands. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

The emotion in her look before? Josh is certain now that it had been sadness. No doubt. 

It must be some kind of a record for him. Two weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mad isn’t quite the word. Devastated, shattered, sure, but mad?

By the time Josh opens his eyes in the morning, woken by the hum of Donna’s hair dryer, only the cold outline of her remains on the mattress. It’s still dark out, a winter murkiness that portends another too short, gray day, which perfectly suits his mood. He rolls onto his side, scrunching the pillow beneath his head, and watches as the strip of light under the bathroom door flicks out. 

It was one thing lying a private hotel room where he could touch Donna as much and as intimately as he wanted, it’s entirely another waking up to her—or not, as the case may be—in his bedroom, in his bed. He looks forward to the moment in the morning, now, when they coil together, her leg twisting around his, hand fanning across his back. Maybe it’s a sleepy smile or a short kiss involving morning breath, maybe something more interesting, but Donna usually makes herself known… Usually. 

Having another person at home, having to learn to move around her and with her in his space, it’s been odd but… nice. However, it also means he can’t run away when he says something stupid. He can’t take the long way around the bullpen to avoid her because she’s a couple rooms over, eating breakfast alone, and there’s only one way out of the apartment.

And Josh doesn’t want to run away from her, not really. He wants her buried in the sheets, smiling up at him. It’s like stretching an atrophied muscle, remembering how to deal with a pissed off partner, but now that it’s Donna, there’s an added layer to work around.

The coffee maker burbles in the kitchen, he can hear, and Donna is clattering around in the background, making zero effort to be quiet. She doesn’t like that there’s a TV on the counter, but it’s on, now, so it’s sure to be a pleasant morning…

Josh had stayed in the living room longer than he meant to, haunted by the last kiss she’d laid on him. It was mournful, and that didn’t sit right, gnawing at him far longer than he’d anticipated. By the time he’d slid into bed, she was fast asleep, rolled in a tight ball on her side. Any attempt to uncurl her would have been met with a sharp elbow, he’s sure of it.

He’d obviously explained himself wrong, again, and blown a hole in their already shaky beginning with all the subtlety of a Sherman tank. He feels bad, but not quite bad enough to walk it back. He _is_ right about this. On the campaign, she’d been followed around by the press like rats trailing after the Pied Piper. Now, they’re going to want to know intimate details about _her_ life. She doesn’t really understand what it’s going to be like. _She_ never got the question about their relationship when she’d been his assistant. This separation of their work lives from personal, it’s for her own good, no matter what she thinks. 

He’ll make it up to her somehow, but, in the meantime, if there’s a way to tempt Donna into conversation, it’s with compliments.

“Good morning,” she says when Josh walks in the kitchen, appropriately sheepish and shuffling in his socks. He’d done everything backwards this morning, in a rush to tumble into a fresh pair of pants and shirt before Donna left but forgetting to shave or brush his teeth. 

The greeting is neither warm nor accompanied by a kiss, and it makes Josh feel sick. She jerks her chin, indicating that his coffee is waiting for him. He’s seen marble sculptures express more feeling, but sculptures can’t make coffee, so that’s… something. She’s folded in on herself, though, arms tight against her body, legs crossed.

Josh tries not to frown. He pulls out the creased piece of paper from behind his back, on which is typed her staff list: the peace offering. Somehow Josh-from-yesterday had remembered to stuff it in his backpack after all, and he’d scanned it in his self-imposed temporary exile on the couch. He hopes that his commentary will soften her a little. Skipping it wasn’t intentional. He just… forgot. 

“So… you’re bringing in Connie Tate for policy? She’s a great get.” 

Donna takes a sip of her coffee before she answers, watching him with sharp eyes like she knows what he’s doing.

“Yes,” she finally says, not ‘yeah.’ Even her words are brittle. “Bruno gave me her number. He said after the election he was shutting down the consulting agency, so Connie was out of a job just in time for me to ask. She already said yes, and I brought her in to meet Helen on Monday.”

When had Donna talked to Bruno Gianelli? Connie is going to be great, but Bruno being anywhere near Donna? That’s exactly the type of person she should avoid. Opportunistic, jaded… also a total sleazebag. The mere thought makes Josh screw up his face, like he’s tasted something sour.

“She’s going to bother Sam,” he says.

“No, she’s not.” Donna returns it forcefully, like she maybe thinks the stink face was a reaction to Connie. There’s no time for Josh to argue before she starts in again. “Connie’s going to make Sam think a little harder. That’s what irritates him… and you.” She cracks a shallow smile, the corners of her mouth lifting.

Josh’s shoulders loosen. It’s the first sign of a thaw. Edging closer, he cradles the hot coffee against his chest, feeling it seep through his shirt.

“And Katherine Daou? She’s amazing but a little… rigid, isn’t she?” He can’t be all sunshine and daisies, otherwise she won’t believe he means it.

“Just because she yelled at you once and embarrassed you in front of Leo and the president, does not make her rigid. You’re afraid of her.” Her smile is wider, toothy, now, definitely sarcastic. 

“She did not _yell_ at me, Donna,” Josh says, feigning huffiness. In the grand scale of his humiliating moments, that’s a speck, an atom. “We were engaged in a debate on a hot button issue that happened to echo because we were in a very large room. Talking about the internal revenue code will do that to a person. It’s not my fault everyone else decided to shut up at the same time.”

Gingerly, he sits down across from her, watching her like she might kick him, as she’s prone to doing. He’d joked already that he should invest in a pair of shin guards, but how much of a joke is it, really?

“I don’t remember it that way.” If he’s not mistaken, he can hear a little bit of good humor return to her voice. 

“You weren’t even there,” Josh says, sniffing. “You just heard about it from Toby and Sam.” He thought that might get him at least a chuckle, since he could vaguely remember Toby, _Toby_ , clutching his stomach in pain from laughing, but no dice. He even lays his hand on the table, hoping that Donna will lay hers down, too.

She ignores him, taking an overly large bite of her bagel. 

He clears his throat, feeling a bruise pound itself in his chest. Maybe he did more damage than he thought...

“I mean, I think, overall, you’ve put together a great team, looks like you’ve really done your homework.”

“Let’s just say I’m looking for as many perspectives as I can get.” 

What does that mean? “There’s one guy on your staff,” Josh says, raising an eyebrow. “Little narrow minded, don’t you think?” She does seem to have everything well thought out, but he can’t help but get in a little dig. It’s a sickness.

“Plenty of men in the West Wing, don’t you think?” 

A red alert begins to pulse at the back of his head. Josh supposes it’s true. Doesn’t Amy complain about it every single time they’re together? He hopes Donna hasn’t been taking lessons and hopes that wasn’t a return shot aimed at his head.

“Where did you even find these people?” he asks, flapping the list at her, curious because some of them are awfully small-time to be pulled up to the East Wing. 

“Oh, here and there. I made sure to keep tabs on the interesting ones before, the ones with potential. You know, just in case.” Donna leans forward on her elbows. Josh takes an appreciative glance down her shirt, smiling thinly because he knows she’s doing it on purpose. It’s buttoned just a little too high, however, to be totally distracting.

He tips his chair backwards, balancing under the table with his knees, feeling like the temperature in the room might be ramping up. “So, you were keeping files on people, just in case a hypothetical first lady _maybe_ asked you to be chief of staff?” He returns the chair to the ground and grabs his mug, swirling the leftover coffee grounds at the bottom. “That’s a little creepy, isn’t it?”

It’s the second time in 12 hours that Josh thinks he’d be better off if he just jettisoned himself into space.

Donna’s expression turns frosty. It’s like she’s brought winter into the kitchen. “No. I did it in case I needed to ask one of _them_ for a job.”

That stops him short like a swift punch to the gut. He can almost hear screeching tires and crunching glass in his head. It’s just a fact, but he feels the strike anyway. Katherine Daou would be okay as a boss, if you like that kind of thing. The Stonebridge Group would have given Donna plenty of meaningful work, but the Minority Whip’s office? She’d have gotten buried there. He can’t believe she’d even considered it. He can’t believe she’d even had a plan like that.

“Before Mrs. Santos offered me the position, I went on a couple of interviews,” she says, staring straight at him, now, unblinking. 

“Why?” he asks, nervous.

“You hadn’t offered me anything, which even Charlie thought was weird, and even if you had, I knew I couldn’t work for you, have you be my boss, again, like I told you.”

Yeah. She had said that. She’d been so confident that day. Not about whether or not she’d take the job, not where she’d end up, but confident in him. Josh had seen the sparkle, recognized the knowledge in her eyes, but chose to ignore it. He’s got to stop doing that… But the Minority Whip’s office? He tries to imagine Donna there, or anywhere, really, that isn’t the White House, anywhere that isn’t parallel to him. The sick feeling rushes back and roils in his stomach. 

“You talked to Charlie about it?” Josh scowls and feels a little tic at the corner of his eye.

This is quickly becoming a conversation he hadn’t intended to have this morning. He wanted to reassure her that he was still more than committed to her, that he’s _not_ embarrassed, but now, there’s apparently another person carbon copied on his relationship status that he didn’t know about. And she’d talked to just about everyone about her career path, except him. Perfect. 

Donna sighs and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A shaft of light peeks in through the window and cuts across her face, highlighting the sharp angle of her nose. It makes her look imperious, commanding. “Not directly. He asked me where I was going to be working with the new administration. I told him you hadn’t said anything. That’s all.”

“I was giving you space!”

“No,” she says, sounding hurt, again. Josh stares at the napkin in her hands as she twists it in a knot. He’s suddenly aware of how gummy his mouth feels and is having some trouble meeting her eyes. “You weren’t. You were distracted and you forgot. I made excuses, but you forgot until you thought I might be going somewhere else.” 

There she goes again, pinning him down and making him feel like a complete asshole. He’d stumbled upon that same period of time when he’d gone through his rolodex of painful Donna memories, yesterday. Josh wonders how many of those memories are tainted with his revisionist strokes. Are there more? A lot more?

“Okay, well… you didn’t say anything, either.” 

“You were my boss,” she says, “and you kind of have this tendency to ignore stuff you don’t want to deal with.” 

Josh blinks, his mind spinning, and runs his tongue around his teeth. She’s repeating the words he’d said not too long ago.

“No, I don’t. I mean, I used to, but I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?” That’s what Sam said. That he’s actually doing something about his life. Acknowledging the problems and moving forward. He’s trying to protect her, here, not stow her away in the cellar.

Donna smiles at him, but it’s the sympathetic kind that borders on insult. “Sure,” is all she says. “I’m going to be late for my last interview if I don’t hurry, but I’ll see you later.” Dropping her dishes in the sink, she gathers her things, only brushing a light hand over his shoulder as a farewell. “Thanks for looking at my list.” 

He doesn’t even get to say goodbye by the time she’s out the door.

If anything, Josh is more bewildered than he was last night, and it’s the first time in a while that he’s wanted to crawl right back into bed.

* * *

The week doesn’t get much better, as it lumbers along. Otto walks around looking like someone kicked his puppy, even though Josh had given him exactly what he’d asked for on election day. Bram can’t get through a meeting without asking a zillion unnecessary questions, and Lou seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Plus, this damn thing with Baker wanting to set up shop in the West Wing just won’t die.

Donna, for her part, goes through the motions. She doesn’t have her assistant, what’s-her-name, schedule another lunch. The emails from her office are noticeably brisk, and she’s mostly asleep by the time he gets home. It’s not what Josh had in mind when he said what he said. What, exactly, he had imagined is a little hazy in hindsight.

She does call him one afternoon, however, oddly breathless, when he’s on his way into the White House for a CJ meeting. He’s surprised, to say the least, that she wants to talk to him while on the clock. The semi-cold shoulder he’s been getting all week has been unrelenting.

“What?” she asks. “You said we should cool it, but I’m not even in the same neighborhood as you right now. I wanted to tell you—” 

“President wants the VP’s office moved next to the Oval,” Josh blurts out. Donna. Donna is the person to talk to about this. Lou has been absolute dog doo at sniffing out the source of this rumored incursion into the West Wing. If Josh doesn’t have the source, he doesn’t have the motive. Without motive there’s no leverage to persuade Baker that he’d be better off at the OEOB. But Donna? She’ll have a completely off-the-wall story about whatever… It’ll spark an idea. That’s how this works. “It’s going to make him look like he’s got the training wheels on and needs Baker close by,” he says, pitching his voice down. “Going to look like Baker has more pull than he does.”

Technically, he’s not supposed to use his personal phone in the White House until his security clearance is all sorted out, but it’s not like the rent-a-cop sitting at the sign-in desk is going to take it. Plus, Josh thinks he’s grumpy enough that a well-placed glare would halt any attempt in its tracks.

“President-elect has the military vote. Baker has the career politician thing,” Donna says slowly. Josh detects a slight tone of annoyance. “Maybe leading democrats want to present a united front for the education bill.” Unlikely. It’s too early to be thinking about that. They’re still five weeks out from inauguration, and all kinds of town hall events and summits have to be organized to float the idea to voters first. Donna continues. “Anyway, you’re the ones who insisted that Baker was the right choice. If you picked Carol Gelsey like Amy said, maybe the optics of moving her in would be easier to manage.”

Oh, God. “You talked to Amy? Why?” He freezes, the phone tilted between his ear and shoulder. Josh had been trying to pull out his driver’s license for the security guard but holds out a finger to tell him to wait a second, turning away to a corner of the vestibule. 

Donna pauses, her silence mocking him like he didn’t just ask a perfectly reasonable question. “She was Mrs. Bartlet’s chief of staff.” Her voice is bland, like she’s explaining to an uncomprehending child. 

That rankles, makes Josh’s neck tense up.

“Yeah?” It comes out angry sounding, but Josh is merely confused. Is Amy supposed to be a sensitive subject between them? She _does_ represent his last relationship. They’re long over, but Donna was on the inside for that particular hurricane. She must have some sort of feeling on it, especially since Amy will be covering Legislative Affairs. Now is probably not the time to ask, though. Donna’s irritated enough with him and sounds more so every minute this call continues.

“So, I wanted to ask her a couple of questions. Talk to her about what it was like.” 

Josh sneers into the mouthpiece. “Might want to talk to someone who was able to make it in the job for more than a year.”

He doesn’t know why he says it. It’s not like Amy did a terrible job until she started pushing the appropriations stuff. The thing is… he doesn’t want Donna to become what Amy is, what he is. He doesn’t want her asking for _Amy’s_ advice. She’s too wholesome, too well-meaning, and... special, for that.

“You know what? Never mind. I have to go,” she says, her words sharp. 

“Wait, Donna—” But he’s too late. She hangs up on him with a click.

Josh sighs, looking up at the ceiling. It feels as though he’s in a time out. 

It’s like there’s this enormous barrier, and he’s not sure whether to bust through, scale it, or stand there and let it collapse on top of him. The thing he’s supposed to do to make up for his shittiness? Inspiration has been awfully slow in its arrival. Promising that he would try hard is fine and dandy, but it’s not like he’d had anything in mind when he said it. Put a flip-flopping senator in front of him, a thorny problem with employment numbers or budgets? That’s kid stuff compared to this.

* * *

CJ tosses down her pen and folds her hands together when he trudges into her office. They’re supposed to be talking about Kazakhstan or a new tax or something.

“Well, gosh, Pollyanna, what’s got you so bent up and crooked?” she asks.

“I’m not. I’m fine.” He chucks his coat at the spare chair and loosely spins himself in front of her, playing at cheerfulness. As if he’s going to bring CJ into it, now. With all the stuff he’d said about keeping themselves to themselves for a while... It would be hypocrisy of the highest order.

“You don’t look happy.” 

Josh scrunches his nose. He’s not sure if she’s being sarcastic. Pollyanna he is not, even at his best, and sometimes CJ’s wit is drier than the darkest French Tannat. “I… am.”

“Well, you should be. You sure?”

What does she know? He scratches his nose and leans, spreading himself out as though he’s relaxed. “Yeah. Why?” Maybe she’ll drop it if he pretends well enough.

CJ looks back at him, but she’s not Lou, and Josh knows her better than that. She’s not going to leave it alone. 

“I don’t know. You seem a little off,” she says. “You look like—”

“What’s not to be happy about?” he says, interrupting and unbuttoning his suit jacket. “I got a man elected to the highest office in the country. There’s an e. coli outbreak, so I don’t have to make excuses to my mother about why I’m not eating spinach. Donna is—” 

“Aha!” CJ points an accusing finger at him.

Shit. Josh sucks in air through his teeth and has to pinch his thigh to stop himself from expressing a stronger reaction.

“Aha?” It’s not often that CJ accepts any of them playing dumb, and Josh can’t imagine it’ll happen this time.

“It’s a Donna thing, isn’t it?” She’s got this self-satisfied look, like she’s a PI from a black-and-white movie who just rooted out a clue.

“No, it’s not.”

CJ nods her head slowly, a sympathetic light in her eyes. He bets she thinks it’s soothing, like it’s her idea of what a shrink does. “Yes, it is. It’s a Donna thing.”

“Donna’s fine. Thanks for asking.” 

“Is she?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Is_ she?”

“No! Okay?” It finally bursts from his chest and sounds like a scraped knee looks. Raw and ugly. He’s not sure if CJ feels like playing therapist because she’s bored at work, or what, but she’s going to have to beat it out of him because his lips are— “She’s not fine. We’re not fine, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to talk about the… the…” He has to grasp for a topic, blinking at CJ’s expectant face. “Nuclear tests in North Korea, so if we can just—”

“Installing security forces in Jerusalem, actually.”

“Whatever. I’m here to talk about peacekeepers in Israel, not Donna.”

CJ is quiet for all of a microsecond. “You’re right. We don’t have to talk about Donna,” she says. Josh feels the sweet freedom of relief for almost the same amount of time until CJ looks down her nose at him, an expression of calm descending upon her, which is highly suspicious. He should have known better. “Let’s talk about Sam, instead. I heard from him a couple days ago, actually…”

Josh groans. “Oh my God, CJ. Do you people have a phone chain or something? Make the rounds when Josh is sounding a little crazy?” God, where did all the lint on his pants come from? He’s going to have to get an assistant to—

“Yes, idiot boy. Don’t be insulted.” Too late for that… “We’re interfering busybodies. We can’t help it.” She looks about ready to smack him on the head, so Josh scoots his chair out of reach. “Sam said you might be starting to freak out. Then, I heard from Donna, and when I get phone calls from those two, yeah, I’m going to get a little concerned. You’re right up there with the economy and global warming, mi amor. Tilt in one direction and the whole thing goes to pieces.”

Christ, his friends are doing wonders for his ego.

“You… talked to Donna?” He tries not to seem too interested. After all, how pathetic would it sound if he were asking after the well-being of the person he lives with? 

“Yes. She had quite a lot to say.”

“I’m sure she did.” Josh smooths down his tie so it’s flat against his chest. One last ditch attempt to pry CJ away from this. “So, what’s going on with Israel?” He winces. Not his most eloquent effort…

CJ holds up a single finger. “I don’t think so. What’s going on with _you_ , Josh?” she asks, her eyes wide with concern.

If there’s anyone who can understand deliberately disrupting a relationship, it’s CJ. Gail motoring around in her bowl in front of his face is proof enough of things left undone, but Josh can’t bear to repeat his dumbass-ery. He’s a big boy. This is something he can work out on his own.

CJ nails him, then, with a look that Josh can’t quite interpret, ducks her head and starts to chew on her thumb nail. Josh lets his eyes flick over her. She’s suddenly deeply uncomfortable about… what?

“If I tell you a thing, will you do two things for me?” she asks.

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a thing.” 

Josh shrugs. “Two things in exchange for one thing seems like a bad deal.”

“You have to tell me your Donna thing…” She hesitates. “And you have to promise you won’t get mad.”

Well, that’s… curious.

“Is it something with Danny, CJ?” His mind darts around for ideas when she doesn’t answer. “Is the president okay? Is something happening with Kazakhstan that I’m not going to like?” If it truly was Kazakhstan, he’d be in the Oval, right now. Josh thinks that would put him right over the edge this week.

CJ takes a moment to rearrange herself, looking more awkward with her long limbs than he’s ever seen. She crosses her arms and speaks more to her desk than Josh. “I may have accidentally made Donna think you were holding her back, and it’s maybe one of the reasons why she quit last year.” Her words rush out in a jumble.

What…? _What_? 

“I didn’t think…” CJ says, her mouth tremulous, looking as though she’d like to crawl under her desk. “I mean, I didn’t know… that she would go like that. I wanted to encourage her to think bigger. She’s talented, Josh, and she didn’t…”

His vision narrows down to the size of a pinhead and heat races up his face. “What?” Somehow, his throat manages to croak out sound. “What do you mean?” He thinks he feels his padfolio slip to the floor. Is the TV playing fuzzy static?

“I mean it all worked out in the end, right? Here you are… living together, dating!” The smile on CJ’s face fades when she sees that Josh isn’t smiling back.

He feels like his brain might be melting out of his ears. “So, let me get this straight...” His hands are out in front of him like he’s got ahold of a neck, and he just might in a minute. “Because you couldn’t work your crap out with Danny or whichever of those other losers you were with, you decided to stick your nose into Donna’s business? Why? To mess with me?”

Scoffing, CJ plucks at the plackets of her jacket. “Oh, please. Not everything is about you, and that’s exactly what I told Donna. She was miserable. She needed to get out and do something more, and, somehow, you were the only one who couldn’t see it.” She circles around her desk, dumps his coat on the floor, and sits next to him, which possibly makes him feel worse. He doesn’t want comfort. He wants to fight her, but because CJ could crush him like a soda can, he stands and pushes himself against the wall, so his lower back is flush with it. He hasn’t thought to do this in a long time.

“Josh, we all saw it. I thought with… Gaza and everything… I’d never seen anyone look like you did after you heard about Donna. I didn’t know that you cared about her that way, too.”

 _This_ explains Donna’s look at lunch. She’s embarrassed because she had to put up with him. She had these… feelings and followed his every instruction to the tee because she thought it would make him have… feelings, too. And then, because CJ told her that she was worth more than he was giving her, she’d detonated a nuclear bomb and gone. It pricks at the deepest, most complicated hurt lodged in his heart. 

Josh squeezes his eyes shut, so he doesn’t have to look at CJ, and he forces out a response. “But you… You’re the reason she left. _You’re_ the reason she thinks I’m embarrassed.” He’s fuming, on fire, legs shaking like Jell-O. Of all people. Of ALL people. CJ… Maybe Toby would have been blunt, said more than Josh ever would have wanted, but CJ… It’s the second worst act of betrayal, Donna herself having rounded out the top of the list by disappearing without a word. The wall behind him is starting to scarily feel paper-thin, like he might fall through it. Less grounding, he thinks, than it’s meant to be. “You said she should leave?” 

CJ hesitates, again. It’s going to be bad. “Not in so many words. I told Donna that she should go do anything not involving you, but I shouldn’t have had to say it. Look what she’s done! She’s Helen Santos’s chief of staff. Imagine what successes she might have had if you’d let her go.”

“Great,” Josh says, spitting it out. “I’m so glad she was able to get out from her tyrant-of-a-boss’s thumb.” He grinds his teeth together, then, to avoid saying something really awful because CJ’s just given a voice to the accusation that keeps him up on quiet nights. It’s confirmation that he’d been a massive idiot for a really, really long time, and everyone he worked with— Oh, God, President Bartlet, Leo… Did Leo know? —had witnessed it.

“Didn’t you want her to do more? Be more? Didn’t she ask you?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know that was something Donna wanted.” Now he does, obviously. She’d had to slap him in the face with it, but now he knows.

“Bullshit, Josh Lyman. I call bullshit on you. You didn’t want to see it.” 

_That_ is the most unkindest cut of all. His hands start to shake, and it feels like he can’t swallow or developed an instant fever or something, so he reaches up to loosen his tie. It takes a couple tries before the knot moves away from his neck. Because… what if she’s right? What if he, deep down, had always known that Donna cared for him, and he’d kept her as his assistant, anyway, because he and his talent and brains were better served contemplating loftier goals? That would make him a… a… He can’t even come up with an appropriate word to describe the revulsion on his tongue. Hopefully, there’s a trash can nearby so he doesn’t vomit on CJ’s carpet. 

“Josh,” CJ says. She’s slumped over in her seat, not even facing him. “I made Donna feel small, that what she’d been doing for you was small, and I apologized to her for that.” His eyes pop open, and CJ tilts her head so they can look at each other. She seems tired, all of a sudden, broken, like he hasn’t seen since Simon Donovan was killed. “We were roommates for a grand total of one night. It’s amazing how quickly a great bottle of Chardonnay loosens the tongue.”

“Good tip.” He starts the pattern of breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, but even that sounds shaky. Counting zero to ten and back is futile, too. It’s kind of unfair that Donna got to do this while intoxicated. The worst of hangovers would be preferable to the chasm that seems to be opening in his chest. 

“Look, I’m going to be blunt, here, okay?” CJ says. Josh tenses and gets a tight grip on the edge of the wall. Whenever CJ gets honest, there’s usually pain involved, and this has been painful enough. “I don’t know if there’s anyone on this earth you love more than Donna, and she needed to leave if the two of you were ever going to work.”

For a moment, Josh’s head swims, and there’s pressure behind his eyes. Love is not something they talk about in the White House, not like this. He barely talks about how he feels with his own mother. 

“You can’t know that,” he says, whispering into the air. That’s… not right. He can’t. It’s too soon, and CJ shouldn’t know that before he does!

Looking utterly ashamed, she drops her head to her chest. “I can. I’m not saying that’s entirely why she left, and it’s not why I said what I said, but I can tell you that I saw that girl do everything you ever asked of her. Way more than she should have.” 

“Donna stayed with me after…” He can’t even say it, just gestures vaguely at his chest.

“Yeah, I know.” CJ inhales loudly, and Josh has to brace himself, again. “I also think you’re absolutely terrified of her, now that she’s not your subordinate, because you don’t have a plan for what comes next. That’s why you’ve been having some trouble, and that’s why Sam and Donna have been calling. I’m not an expert, here, Joshua, but I call them like I see them.”

“Well, I’m scared of most women, CJ, present company included.” His joke falls flat, and he knows that she’s still not going to drop it, not going to release him from this hell. When she stands and reaches for him, he can’t back up, can’t push himself any further into the wall. He’s frozen, watching her come closer and closer.

She puts a hand on his shoulder, and says, “I’m sorry, Josh, for the part I played in all of this. You’re my friend, and Donna’s my friend, too. I did you both a disservice, but all I ever wanted was for you both to be happy.”

It’s as close Josh has ever come to crying in the West Wing. He’d remained dry-eyed when President Bartlet disclosed the MS diagnosis. He’d been cheerful when Zoey walked back in for the first time since the kidnapping, dismayed when he’d found out about Hoynes’ affair. But now, he has to force his arm up to dash away tears before they fall down his cheek. He hides behind his hand before facing CJ, again.

Her eyes are bloodshot, and her voice is congested, like she’d almost been crying, too. “Are you mad?” she asks, tentative.

Josh lets out a big puff of air. Mad isn’t quite the word. Devastated, shattered, sure, but mad?

“I… don’t think I am. More, relieved, I guess. I’m… I’m glad you told me.” Exhausted, like he’d just played a full nine innings and gone back to stand in front of the pitching machine, Josh sinks onto CJ’s shoulder when she offers herself to him, arms wide open. She really does give the best hugs. 

“Okay,” she says, rubbing his back gently. “Do you still want to talk about Israel?” 

He snuffles a laugh into her jacket. “I don’t think either of us is in the best headspace for that, right now. Do you?” It’s almost unheard of that Josh put his own dramas in front of a strategy meeting, but he thinks, just this once, it might be better for his sanity if he goes away.

“I’ll have Margaret reschedule for some time after Christmas.” CJ pulls back from him and pats his cheek. “I think there’s someone else you need to see, anyway.” 

Josh frowns. Yeah, right. If he goes to Donna, now, she’ll send him right back out the door, and that’s what he tells CJ.

“I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen, and I know everything, so… go get her, champ.” CJ bundles his coat into his arms, turns him, and gives him a bump, so he stumbles into the hallway.

He starts to haul himself away, trying to figure out what comes next, but hurries back after a few steps. “Wait, I didn’t tell you my thing.” 

“One out of two, with you, isn’t so bad. Plus, I’m not the one you should be telling,” she says, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and a lopsided smile.

It’s a good thing Josh worked in the White House before, knows his way around, because his vision seems to have clouded over. Muscle memory leads him back to the lobby. 

Love… The word pings around in his head like a marble. Josh… loves Donna. It’s the amorphous tingle that has been floating in his brain since she’d asked how his mom was doing while stuffing her face with fish tacos, and here it is, out in the open for all to see, apparently. Love implies some kind of dedication, permanence… more permanence than even Donna herself has been asking for, but it fills him up, toes to the top of his head.

They’re not back to where they were, not that Josh wants to go back, exactly, but Donna’s… quieter now, more serious. They don’t joke like they used to. They’d had a natural rhythm before, the two of them, like a jazzy number. He’d ask a question, just to make noise, sometimes. She’d manage to be both sassy and useful in her response or recite a fact she found noteworthy that he really, really didn’t, and he’d tease her back, flirting with impropriety... flirting with _her_. Maybe… it’s that he’s loved her all along.

Amazingly, Donna is the one he runs into on his way past the gatehouse to get back to the street. He doesn’t see her at first, eyes trained on the ground. 

When the tips of her shoes appear in his view, he looks up and greets her with a suave, “Hi.”

She doesn’t say hello back, just gives him this hard look and grabs his hand, tugging him off the sidewalk. Her hair is long and shiny in the sunshine, but parts of it are carelessly tucked into the scarf twined around her neck. 

Josh hadn’t expected to see her so soon after having the fabric of his life profoundly altered. She’s the same Donna: tall, pale, pissy expression… Wait.

“Donna, what’re you doing? The guards will be over in a second wondering why—” 

She releases him only to seize his coat lapels and push him backwards. He thumps into the gatehouse, which is mostly made of plexiglass, stunned. Her fingers grab his cheeks and pinch, so his lips are squished together like a fish’s. He tries to say something or turn to reassure the freaked-out security guard, but she just pinches harder. The only comparison his brain can muster is that he must look like one of those rubbery squeeze dolls with its googly eyes popping out. 

“Listen, I’ve thought about what you said,” Donna says, eyes roving over him, “and I won’t do it. I’ll visit my boyfriend wherever I want and kiss him in front of other people if I want, and I don’t care if the Pope himself is there to watch me do it.” 

“Wha—?” 

She clamps down on his face, again, hopping mad. Josh can feel it in the way she’s holding herself, coiled like a spring. It’s been, in the past, an amusement for him, a pastime, to get Donna angry, but it’s really unfunny, just now. His hands scrabble for purchase, and he’s able to grab her arms to stop himself tipping into the snow. 

“I think that your previous relationships haven’t worked not because other people are looking; it’s that you’re unwilling to share yourself, and you get scared. So, here I am, forcing the issue. You’re going to share with me, Joshua Lyman, and I’m going to share with you, and we’re going to _be_ together, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.” 

Josh has no time to respond before Donna hooks a hand around his neck and yanks him in. His breath hitches when her warm mouth reaches his, and he sees stars. It’s a little like the first time, when he’d surprised her and himself in equal measure, but much less tentative. He makes a strangled noise when she opens her mouth and runs her tongue along his bottom lip. Now, she’s demanding, asking everything of him, tilting her head to get a better angle, gripping the hair at the back of his head like she’d fall over if she didn’t. 

His nose brushes against hers, and his heart thrums like a hummingbird’s wings when Donna gasps. She kisses him, again and again, hard, messy, fierce. Josh half-heartedly tries to push her away, ask her what on earth she thinks she’s doing, but she surges against him, and his resistance to her highly enjoyable effort crumbles.

Her coat isn’t zipped. She must have run from wherever she’d been. Josh takes the opportunity to wind his arms around her waist and bring her closer. He momentarily loses his head, forgets where they are, and pushes his pelvis into hers, but he’s still the one to let go when she hitches a leg over his hip.

“I don’t know if the Pope was watching,” he says, breathless, releasing her back to the ground, “but the security cameras definitely were.” Josh points to the one hanging off the eaves, its blinking red light mocking them. Plus, the poor guy who’s sitting just behind his back will have quite a story to tell…

Donna waves at the camera and turns back to him, their noses almost touching. Her eyes are blazing and so blue up close. He’s transfixed. “I don’t care,” she says, punctuating it with another kiss, this one short and perfunctory. 

Okay…

She leaves him then, without another word, stalking away though the bushes.

Taking a moment to recover, Josh wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and rounds the corner to exit through the gate. He makes the mistake of glancing back at the guard. Surrounded by the clear plexiglass—he saw _everything_ —the man smiles knowingly at him and gives him a little salute. Great… that footage is sure to get endless amounts of ridicule if Margaret ever gets her greasy hands on it. 

He walks through the rest of the day in a daze, returning a few vitally important calls, eventually deciding to mute everything and turn off the lights in his office because there’s really nothing to do but lie down for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Josh and Donna, obviously, but I LOOOOVVEE the sibling vibe between Josh and CJ.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here she is, love of his, of the opinion that she can wipe her snot on her sleeve.

It’s well past midnight by the time he makes it home, but Josh can see the bedroom window glowing yellow from the street. It’s chilly now that the sun is down, a snowstorm on the way, so he hurries inside. As quiet as he can, he closes the door with a muted click because maybe Donna fell asleep reading, again... Collecting a halo of papers around her prone body and tucking her legs under the blankets is as racy as the bedroom activity has gotten this week. 

He kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat, thinking he’s in the clear until he accidentally knocks a heel into the stack of Donna’s boxes. They tumble to the floor with an almighty crash, almost in slow motion, before Josh can catch them. 

Squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing, Josh waits for her to fling the bedroom door open, to shoot him a glare, but it’s mercifully silent. It didn’t _sound_ like there was anything breakable in there… Plus, the howling wind is so loud, window-rattlingly loud, maybe she didn’t hear…

Shuffling down the hall, he peeks his head in the bedroom.

Donna is still awake, propped up against several layers of pillows, looking as exquisite as a person can in a raggedy sweatshirt. Kleenexes are piled up on the floor, and his laptop is balanced across her knees. She’s sipping at a mug of something steaming hot. There’s a little space heater plugged in in the corner, and the hum of it seems to swallow most of the sounds of the storm. 

When Josh fully pushes the door open, she doesn’t look up, gaze resolutely concentrated on the computer screen. 

He feels his heart squeeze. He’d be absolutely out of his mind if he didn’t want to come home to this. But they need to recalibrate, get back to the way they were, so he can feel her breath on his neck when she sleeps or tickle the back of her knee to make her smile.

If he doesn’t touch her soon, Josh thinks he actually might die. 

Tossing his suit jacket and tie over a chair, he propels himself onto the bed next to her, kicking up the comforter when he lands. He’s as certain as he can be that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around her, anymore, that they’re back on speaking terms after the events of earlier in the day. Donna frowns when he pulls the mug from her hands and takes a sip, but she lets go easily, settling herself in the pillows. 

“That’s good,” he says. “What is that?"

“Peppermint schnapps and hot chocolate from a package.”

It’s dumb, but he’s not sure how to start. All he’d said was ‘hi,’ not seven hours ago, and she’d jumped him like they were horny teenagers. A pleasurable experience to be sure, but perplexing in its execution. He hadn’t heard a boo from CJ’s office, so chances are the tape is still under wraps. Or maybe he had, but just hadn’t listened to the message... Who cares, really? The only thing that matters is the woman sitting next to him, dabbing at her nose with a crumpled-up tissue, and _she_ said it mattered about as much as a can of spam.

Donna, like CJ, tends not to lie unless there’s a good reason, so it must be true.

After those three phone calls, lying down his dark, quiet office had been moderately helpful. Sure, his brain had still raced a mile a minute, but at least he was focused on a single issue, instead of 47. He’d contemplated calling CJ, just to make sure he understood everything she’d told him, maybe Donna, too, to ask her… because she’d said…

She’d called him her boyfriend. She’d basically blown up his plan for privacy, for going slow, in the span of three minutes, along with any of Josh’s lingering reluctance. Donna had come for that barrier with a sledgehammer, taking it down in one fell swoop. He’s replayed the moment over and over, watching it from every angle behind his eyelids, like it had happened to someone else. Her eyes, pleading for him to understand, the grim determined angle of her mouth, fingertips warm on his cheeks. She’d absolutely meant what she’d said. There’d been no flicker of doubt: they _are_ going to be together, and that’s that. She’s nothing if not stubborn… and if that’s how she really feels… 

Well, he’d hardly be a man, hardly be a good boyfriend, a good _person_ , if he can’t say out loud that he’s prouder of her than anything, that he regrets ever making her feel stuck and unimportant. It would be so wrong to let her continue floating in the ether, alone. 

Josh feels the gritty unmixed cocoa powder spread across his tongue. “It’s good,” he says. This cheap stuff reminds him of winter nights as a kid, happy nights. Unexpected snowfalls meant his dad would drag him and Joanie outside to build snowmen in the front yard. They’d be so cold when they’d troop back in, red cheeks, drippy noses, but his mom always had hot chocolate waiting.

“My dad always suggests brandy for a cold, but you have weird liquor, here,” Donna says.

There’s a Wisconsin joke in there, somewhere, but he passes on it. To Josh’s ears, her voice sounds nasally. It’s strange. He can’t remember if he’s ever seen Donna leveled by a cold before, is fairly sure she carries a miniature pharmacy in her purse that has saved him more than once. 

Taking another sip of hot chocolate, he makes an exaggerated slurping noise, so she’ll look at him. 

Donna clicks something on the keyboard and obliges, smiling softly. “Hi,” she says. This time, _she’s_ the suave one, and while Josh would like to kiss her until she can’t breathe, make her squeak and sigh, there’s some stuff he’s got to say first, and that’s always the challenge, isn’t it? 

Her fingers float to his head, lightly running through his hair to his ear. It feels like he’s being pardoned, like she’s broken down the last vestiges of that barrier for him. He doesn’t deserve it, though, not yet, and it tickles, so Josh tilts his head to trap her hand. When she withdraws, he sinks into his elbow and tries to bite back a grin. Donna’s red-rimmed eyes are tired, her nose pink, with loose hair from her ponytail slipping down her neck. She looks so pathetic, so different than the Amazon from this afternoon, that he can’t help it. His lips pull back in a smile.

“Are you feeling okay? Stomping around in the snow, like that…” he says, clucking faux disapproval. “Your feet were probably wet for hours.” Like he hadn’t been ankle deep in the snow right along with her. His shoes are ruined, and his pant legs _had_ stayed damp for hours. 

Donna ducks into her sweatshirt, making it look like she doesn’t have a neck. “Miranda and Peter must’ve caught something in Houston,” she says from under her collar. “Mrs. Santos brought it back and wasn’t feeling the best. Now, I obviously have it.” Screwing up her face, she sneezes into her elbow.

Rocking backwards, Josh beats a hasty retreat across the bed, taking care to not dribble the hot chocolate, and says, “You should probably use medicine to fix that, not booze.”

“Traditionally, the response there is, ‘Bless you.’”

He shrugs, leaning over to place the mug on his nightstand. This silly bickering is familiar, easy.

She snuggles down, so their eyes are level, and then a yawn splits Donna’s face. They’d thrown out all pretense of hiding their tiredness from one another after the debate, on a plane to Pittsburgh, all pretense that they were immune to one another, really. “I thought there _was_ something in the medicine cabinet, but the label said it expired five years ago,” she says reproachfully, “and by then I was already in my pajamas and I didn’t feel like leaving, again.”

Josh is surprised it’s only five years. “You could have called me. I would have gotten something for you.” He would have stopped at CVS for her, today, bought out the entire shelf of cold medicine. Any day, any time, any place, really. It’s his job, his responsibility, to make sure she’s happy and safe, to make sure she can rely on him. He’s never in his life been steady, but now seems like an ideal time to learn how. 

Donna smooths the edge of the bedsheet over her lap. “I thought you might be busy. A cold isn’t the end of the world,” she says. It sounds like she’s holding in another sneeze, ruining any attempt she was making at sounding breezy. 

It makes her seem… vulnerable, delicate. Josh, of course, knows she’s not, knows she can take his brand of honesty, and he’d been wrong to hide behind his fear. It only hurt her, hurt them both. It reminds him of that fortune cookie from the day this whole mess started. _Fear and desire…_

He exhales noisily, searching her face for a moment. It’s also _possible_ Donna misunderstood which parts of their relationship he wanted to keep quiet. That, or she’s being difficult on purpose as a small measure of retribution. It’s probably that one. He leans in, anyway, prepared to go slow this time, try and show her, let her get soft and sentimental before he tells her.

Donna puts a quick hand to her mouth, palm out. “Don’t,” she says from behind her fingers. “You’ll get sick.”

That’s ridiculous. He would like to kiss the woman he loves hello, and he’s already halfway to her face. “You just said a cold isn’t the end of the world, and you attacked me at the White House with your mouth.” 

Her smile is uneven, timid, when he backs away. Does she think he’s upset about their afternoon exhibitionism? He’s not. It’s the jolt he’s needed, as it turns out. Would it be a different story if, somehow, someone actually releases that footage? Yes. But they can cross that bridge when they come to it. As long as he never has to look that particular security guard in the face, again, they’ll be fine.

“Yeah, but you’re a terrible patient,” Donna says, touching the top of his hand, brushing over his knuckles to soften it, to let him know she’s not being unkind, just that she knows his schemes inside and out. “You don’t even drink orange juice until it’s too late.” 

Josh sniffs, aggrieved from being denied his kiss. After what she’d done, today? It’s unjust is what it is, unreasonable. If he’s going to catch something from her, surely he already has it. No amount of orange juice can reverse a cold if it’s been simmering in his body for an afternoon. 

He shakes his head. How did they even get here? He doesn’t want to talk about orange juice or hot chocolate.

Donna rolls her eyes at him and unplugs the laptop, stowing it at the foot of the bed. While she’s leaning forward, Josh slips a hand under her sweatshirt to the small of her back, determined to touch her, and spreads his palm wide. His thumb runs over the bumps of her spine. Her skin is silky, irresistible. 

He can feel it when Donna shudders and hopes it’s because of him, not a fever, or something. She slumps even further into him, head landing on his shoulder, knees bent up and skimming his leg. It’s a small consolation for no kiss. Infinitesimal. Microscopic. “How was your day?” she asks, nonchalant, drawing a sleeve over her hand to wipe her nose.

“ _Donna_.” He circles two fingers around her wrist to stop her. It’s not funny on so many levels. CJ had opened up a whole new universe to him with her belated confession, once again being her annoyingly right self with all that talk about love and commitment. And here she is, love of his, of the opinion that she can wipe her snot on her sleeve…

“Get me a tissue, then. I’m out.”

Josh scoots out from under Donna and grabs an entire box from the bathroom. He tosses it next to her and sits on the edge of the bed, peeling off his socks. Even now, there’s still a ring of cold damp around the cuffs. Donna is certainly thawed, snug in her cocoon of blankets and pillows, but he’s still not sure how to broach the subject. What he has to say will _probably_ make her happy, but… he’s been wrong before.

“Thanks.” She makes an unattractive honking noise when she blows her nose. The tissue gets tossed onto the pile on the floor. 

When she’s done, Josh shuffles her back onto his shoulder, draping his arm around her. Donna’s cheek is warm, and her breathing sounds wet, rattling in her chest. She tugs the front of his shirt out from his pants—he jumps at her touch—and undoes a couple buttons at his throat to slip a hand in, over his heart, so they’re touching skin to skin. That’s good. He’s going to need her close. 

“Mmm. That’s nice,” he says, closing his eyes.

It’s silent for a moment, except for the little heater and the wind, sounding like it’s whistling through every crack and cranny in his apartment. In time, maybe they can look for someplace new, someplace quieter. 

“Hey, Donna?”

“Hmm?”

“You can talk to me, you know.” 

“We’re talking,” she says, her voice drowsy, fingers tracing patterns under his shirt.

“I mean, now that…” He swallows, peering down at her. “Now that we’re dating.” Josh sticks his tongue out in distaste. It still sounds odd, but they are. They very much are.

She says nothing, pausing her ministrations only for a moment, leaving it entirely to him. Starting up her circuit, again, it’s like he hasn’t even spoken. 

The elastic in her hair is barely holding anything together, anymore, so he pulls it out and shoots it across the room. Her hair flows loosely across her back—in this light, it looks golden—and Josh sinks his hand in at the crown of her head, gently massaging. He knows it can give her a headache sometimes, when her ponytail is too tight. She’s complained about it enough over the years. It’s just that _now_ he can do something about it, and her hair is something he’s devoted quite a lot of brain power to, among other things. 

Donna sighs, her neck following along with the strokes of his hand in little circular motions. 

“I mean, you can talk to me about stuff,” Josh says, “if you’re upset with me or if you don’t agree with something.” She had _never_ been shy about disagreeing with him, before, and he doesn’t want her to be now that their relationship has taken a turn for the romantic. And isn’t it better that they argue about things out in the open, rather than fighting these covert battles? It seems like something his therapist would say is healthy progress. “I wish it could be like in Hawaii all the time, the first half, I mean. Before I—” Donna tips her head up to throw him a knowing look. He has to clear his throat. _This_ is the difficult part. “Yeah. I’m just saying, it would be easier if work didn’t matter to me, if yours wasn’t important, too. But it does matter…” Josh exhales, his thumb brushing back and forth on her neck, now. “I just don’t know how we do both things. I’m afraid that it’ll get like it was before, all about work, that you’ll get tired of it and… and…”

“Leave, again?”

“Yeah, that.” Josh hangs his head. Just the words cause the awful memory to rise to the surface, her face when she’d told him she was quitting… Strikes of pain crackle over his skin like lightning. He’s been able to admit to himself, privately, in drips and drabs, that the first day at the White House without Donna had pushed him into the flight to Houston. The bullpen had felt joyless, like the air had been sucked out by a vacuum. There’d been no point without her there. There’s no point without her _here_ , and now he knows the word for that.

“Well, the only way you’re going to find out is if you keep trying,” she says quietly. 

He feels everything in his face pull up, and his fingers reflexively grip her tighter in case she intends to flee right this minute.

Donna must see the panic in his eyes because she tacks on a hasty follow up, laying a hand on his cheek. “No! I mean, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right where I want to be and I’m with the person I want to be with.” Her hand slides down, fumbling with the next button on his shirt. She hesitates before speaking again, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “You’ve kind of ruined other men for me.”

“Really?” He has to scoff because _he’s_ ruined other men for _her_? With his silver-tongued romancing and all the time they’ve spent being a couple? Okay, sure…

Nevertheless, his heart clenches, and there’s a swoopy feeling in his stomach, a little like he might puke, but… nicer. If he had feathers, he’d be unfurling them, strutting around to show them off, the picture of male pride. Instead, he dips Donna back like they’re dancing, balancing her over his arm, so he can see her eyes. There’s something soul stirring there, in that clear blue, promising all kinds of things that Josh doesn’t have names for, yet. “You just seem so sure. How are you so sure?”

“Well,” she says, dragging out the word with expectation and playing with a whirl of hair behind his ear, curling and uncurling it with a finger. “You promised that you were going to try hard, didn’t you?” Her voice is slow, drippy like honey.

When she teases him like this, it’s intoxicating. It’s not out of some vicious need to win or prove that she’s got him on a fishhook. Donna wants him, too, and that’s the sweetest thing of all, being wanted without agenda. She’d cared for him before he even realized it, never demanded anything from him, but he’d given it anyway, hadn’t he?

“Yes, I did promise, didn’t I?”

“You did, and I’ve never known you to back out of something important like that. But you know, Josh,” she says, frowning and sounding serious. “I get that you want this to work out, but wanting it isn’t enough. It’s not nearly enough. You still have to say the words and do the work. We can’t just skip over parts of it because it’s hard, sometimes.” 

It’s exactly what his conversation with CJ had illuminated. He’d assumed all the things he knew of assistant-Donna had come along with girlfriend-Donna, but they hadn’t. He can’t _not_ explain himself and presume she’ll know what he means. He can’t tell her that he doesn’t want to play the part of boyfriend in front of other people and expect her to draw the same conclusion he’d come to.

“Like now?” he asks.

“Yes, like now.”

Josh squeezes her around the waist. “In that case, I need to apologize for this week. It wasn’t right, asking that of you.” To stop himself from choking on the lump in his throat, he has to look somewhere past Donna’s shoulder, can’t bear to see the pity in her eyes. “I know it was stupid. I knew it as soon as I said it, but...” he says, his jaw working. “I’m scared for you.” That’s twice now, the fear thing. It’s got to be a step in the right direction. “That you’ll get… bullied or taken advantage of, or something, and I won’t be able to…” He trails off lamely. He won’t be able to step in or protect her the way he wants if they’re both going to do their jobs effectively. 

“Oh, Josh,” she says, wiggling away and kissing the corner of his mouth. His skin tingles. “I appreciate that you’re worried for me—it was even a little sweet, now that I know—but people are going to insult me because I’m a woman with visibility and access to the first lady and the president, not because I’m dating you.” 

She’s half-right. 

“Well… they still might,” he says, wanting her to be absolutely sure that she knows what could happen. “There are a lot of people who don’t like me, and you could be in the line of fire for that alone. You’re… you could—” 

Donna’s shoulders lift, almost helplessly. She sneezes again and then smiles. “Worth it.” 

Josh stares for a moment, then crushes her to him, so he can whisper in her hair, altogether certain he _does_ love her. CJ, Sam, Lou… they’re all very smart people, and Donna is brave, braver than he’d given her credit for. Plus, she fits wonderfully in his arms. She fits wonderfully with _him_ , had done this whole time. “You’re my greatest success, Donnatella Moss,” he says, “and I’m so proud of everything you’ve become, even if I only had a little bit to do with it.”

There’s a release in his soul once the words come out, a little switch that’s been flipped. Even so, Josh feels shaky, loose, like he’s become untethered.

When he pulls back, her eyes are shining, the corners of her mouth quivering, and he finds himself floating back to earth. It’s the first time in recent memory that Donna’s been completely silent.

If ever there’s a sign that this is the moment, it’s that. 

“Today is four weeks, you know, since you were right out there,” Josh says, nodding towards the living room, “and you put a time limit on us.” It had been today all day, and he hadn’t even realized until a calendar notice popped up on his phone for a doctor’s appointment after the holidays. 

He can tell by the way she purses her lips that Donna hadn’t forgotten. Maybe that’s why she’d chosen today to kiss him silly at the White House. Maybe that was her figuring out her answer. What a relief that they both agree on that salient point.

“Sorry I let it get down to the wire, here,” Josh says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk to you about this sooner, officially, I guess, but I had a few kinks to work out, and everything didn’t come together until today. Also, we weren’t really talking that much.”

Donna gives him a wry grin. “A few kinks in what?” she asks cautiously, tapping her fingers on his temple like he’s a piano.

All the air whooshes from Josh’s lungs, and his chest feels tight. “I uh… I told the president-elect that I’m going to be bringing on an additional staff of senior advisers. Three.” 

Her mouth drops open so wide Josh can see her molars. “But why? You get all… clench-y when you’re not the one in charge,” she says, sitting up in alarm. “Did Sam change his mind and decide to stay in California?” 

“No. Sam’s still going to be my deputy.” Josh laughs, tucking her back under his chin. For once, she doesn’t struggle and limply winds herself around him. That feeling of being moved around like a piece of furniture… She hates that. “And I’m still going to be in charge,” he says, “but it’s… There are two reasons, and I didn’t even really figure out the second one until this afternoon.”

“What are they?” 

“Having the extra staff, plus _their_ staff… Well, I’m going to need them close by, especially with what’s going on in Kazakhstan, won’t I? I never served, and I’m not sure I could be described as a _people person_ …” Donna, to her credit, only chuckles a little. “Won’t be a lot of room—”

“Left for the vice president,” she says, completing the thought for him. “That’s smart, Josh.” 

There’s a good amount of pride in her voice, and those three words spark a frisson of pleasure at the nape of his neck. It’s utterly ridiculous that such a small compliment from Donna can make him feel this way, on top of the world. It’s a thrill, knowing that he can still impress her, even though she’s seen him at his lowest. _Literally_. Still drunk from the night before wearing Big-Bird-yellow foul weather gear, wrapped up so deep in his own head not realizing glass was still stuck in his hand… It gives him enough courage to continue on to the second, much more important, reason. Josh drops into his shoulder and twists so he can rest his head on her stomach, not sure he can look in her eyes when he says it.

He gets a hand on Donna’s hip and rubs his thumb back and forth on a sliver of skin that’s appeared from her wriggling around. It’s there, lying the wrong way on the bed, no socks, Donna breathing all kinds of germs everywhere that Josh tells her, without _telling_ her. He needs a little time to wrestle with the concept of love before he can even consider saying it out loud. But he’d do anything for Donna if she asked, anything even if she didn’t ask, just to see her smile. He knows that now, and it’s warming him from the inside out.

“I thought, at first, that I’d hire nobodies and stick them in there to take up space. It didn’t really matter who they were because I was going to be doing the same job. But I decided today that I wanted people I admire, people that can be useful.”

Josh tugs at Donna’s arm and drops a kiss on the inside of her wrist, swirling his tongue over her pulse. He stops when she draws in a sharp breath, positioning her hand to cup his jaw. Her continued silence means she’s a little nervous. Oddly, it fortifies him.

“They’re going to help me out, so I won’t be chained to my desk for the next four years, with foreign policy, public engagement. I think… We—you and I—” He can feel it when Donna breathes out a trembling laugh because who else would he be talking about? Get to the point, Josh! “We’ve gotten close a couple of times to being… an us, and I’ve managed to screw it up most of those times, a lot of the time by using work stuff as an excuse. I’m tired of screwing up with you. I _want_ to share, and I’m making sure I have people who can support the president if I have other things to do, you know, with you.” It’s only when he’s finished that he risks a look. 

Donna stares blankly at him for a moment, mouth gaping open in shock, and then she tackles him. The Kleenex box goes flying, loose tissues and pillows floating through the air, and Josh finds himself dragged sideways, his shirt rucked up behind him, loosened collar hiked nearly to his ears. She’s holding his face on either side, sitting on his hips, and kissing him all over. Temple, forehead, eyelids, cheek, finally mouth, anywhere she can catch a bit of skin, even a little on his neck, making his foot twitch. So much for the cold…

“I can’t believe you—” Kiss. “I’m sorry I ever thought—” Kiss _with tongue_. 

Before she can pull away again, Josh grabs her and rolls to pinion her against the bed, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw.

“Josh, are you—” Donna’s eyes are wide and warm, but she still looks worried.

He covers her mouth with a hand but recoils when she licks his palm. She’s a real catch, that Donna Moss. She snorts with laughter when he wipes it on her sweatshirt. Thank God. It’s been a gloomy week, not hearing her laugh.

Dropping away, Josh tugs her into his chest. Her arms are squashed between them, but he can feel her groping for his collar. “I’m sure. You don’t have to ask. I won’t change my mind. I doubt Andrew Burton would let me renege on a senior staff position, anyway.” Donna wrinkles her forehead in confusion. “Never mind,” Josh says, running his fingers through her hair to straighten it. She has beautiful hair and beautiful eyes and— “You’ll meet them all at some point.” 

It had occurred to him crossing Pennsylvania Avenue. He's going to be bringing on additional staff one way or the other, better if they could actually be of some use instead of getting in his way. It’s going to be hard, without a doubt, to maintain a serious relationship and a serious job at the White House, but… if this new structure frees up even a single day to be with her… well, it's more than worth it.

Donna trails a fingertip over his cheekbone, then pulls his head down, kissing him softly once on the mouth and once just below his ear, letting her lips linger. She breathes, featherlight, over the spot and Josh shivers. “That sounds amazing,” she says, her beatific smile hovering dangerously close his lips. “Just as long as it’s something that will work for you.”

“Something that will work for _us_.” It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know yet why she lies about baseball. There’s plenty of time to learn about it. All the time, in fact, if he has anything to say about it. 

There’s just one more tiny thing that’s been niggling at the back of his mind. Maybe it had exacerbated what he’d been thinking about when he’d walked through the door that night. Scratched an itch that had caused him to lash out.

“So, um… those boxes sitting out there…” Josh says, jerking his chin. 

“The ones you trampled over like an elephant?”

He opens his mouth to protest, but… that’s probably what it had sounded like. “They’re not still sitting there because you don’t feel comfortable here, right?”

Like a luxuriant cat sitting in the sun, she runs her hands up his chest around his shoulders, legs hooking around his waist. He can tell she’s about to mess up his hair, again. Joke’s on her because he has no intention of leaving this spot for a long time.

“I’m comfortable, here, really.” 

Now that Josh has a chance to look, he can see little touches of her around the room. Not just the gross Kleenex mountain but a picture frame on the dresser, her delicate jewelry box, a pair of flannel pajama pants carelessly draped over the footboard. She’d grown into his space without him even noticing, like a climbing rose. It’s just that those boxes have been sitting there for weeks… 

“I haven’t had a single second to even think about unpacking,” she says, shaking her head. “I still have things to get out of the storage unit, too. I have to get my bike—” 

“It’s December.”

She pulls her cage around him tight, so they’re flush against one another.

“I _will_ need it, at some point,” she says, talking with her hands behind his neck, ignoring the string of kisses he’s leaving along her jaw. “But I promise there’s no secret message I’m trying to send you with the boxes, Josh, and I’m sorry I made you feel like I was. I’m sorry for not talking to you about it, this week.” He has to laugh internally. As if _she_ has anything to apologize for. She’s the perfect one. “You have time off on Christmas Day, right?”

Yes, but he’ll probably have to go… Oh. “Yes. I do. I have time.” He’ll be able to lavish attention upon her for Christmas. It’s going to be so much better than last year, spent drinking himself into a stupor, alone, in an airport lounge. That hangover had been hell on earth, made all the nastier when he’d stumbled into the office, without Donna and without a presidential candidate.

“Perfect. You can come with me to pick up all of my stuff and unpack for real. I’m commandeering you.”

Josh goes limp, letting her take all his weight, and he groans. His body isn’t in any fit state for manual labor, after a steady diet of Cheetos and Coke, but if it means getting to spend a whole day with her, well… that’s… okay. Better than okay, magnificent. “You commandeer a ship, Donna. You impress a person.” 

He must have a funny expression on his face because Donna starts laughing, so hard that tears leak from her eyes. She doesn’t laugh at people to be mean, so it’s something good, if not confusing. Clutching at her stomach and curling into a ball so her head butts up against his chest, she sighs and wipes at her face, using a section of the comforter. Except there’s a whole box of Kleenex just waiting for her… 

“ _Donna_.” 

When she finally calms down, she puts a gentle hand on the side of his face. “Joshua, I’m always impressed by you.”

Later, if he unplugs the space heater after she’s fallen asleep, just so it’ll get cold enough that he has an excuse to snuggle up to her, well, that’s a harmless secret just for Josh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Wisconsin joke I had in mind from a Lewis Black set. As a Wisconsinite, I am able to say… he’s not inaccurate. There’s bad language and references to drinking in case it’s not your thing: https://youtu.be/7WlwumGkSec?t=188


End file.
